


we're looking for something dumb to do

by blamefincham



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fame-adjacent characters, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Secret Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 11:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11736252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blamefincham/pseuds/blamefincham
Summary: It’s an idea, all right—aterribleidea. They’re really young, and they’ve only been dating for a couple of years, and they’ve never talked about marriage, Bill has no idea what Alex thinks about it.Then the image pops into Bill’s brain of Alex in a tux with a ring on his finger, smiling his dorkiest grin at Bill, the way he does when he’s so happy he forgets to pose.





	we're looking for something dumb to do

**Author's Note:**

> I've been trying to write this fic for over a month and I ended up writing it in three days. As you do.
> 
> This fic features some fame-adjacent characters, friends of Alex and Bill irl who work in or around pro hockey in Sweden. Tagging for it 'cause I know it makes some people uncomfortable.
> 
> Thank you to Jenny for helping me whip this outline into shape and yelling until I wrote words, and to Jay for making anguished noises when I sent him excerpts.

It's about nine when Bill's phone rings, and his heart sinks immediately. Alex stops talking mid-sentence, staring at the phone buzzing on the table.

They both knew about the rumours, though they've avoided talking about them as much as possible. And they both know that if Bill’s going to Vegas, he's getting a call today. For the last six hours his phone has been quiet, which was a good sign, but this—

Bill gets up to answer it, walks a short distance away. He can’t sit next to Alex while he’s having this conversation, not if he wants to stay professional. 

“Hello?” he says, willing his voice to stay steady. He does a decent job. 

“Hi, Bill,” Jarmo says. “How’s it going?”

He’s speaking Swedish, which is probably an attempt to do this kindly. That’s a nice thought, but Bill would really much rather he just get it over with.

“Is this the phone call I think it is?” he says, stubbornly sticking to English.

There’s a pause.

“Yes,” Jarmo says finally, switching back to English himself. He says the things he has to say, about how much the team has appreciated having Bill around and how he wishes him the best of luck in Vegas. Bill isn’t really listening; he’s counting his breaths instead. _In. Out. In. Out._

Jarmo has stopped talking. “Thank you for the opportunity,” Bill says, formulaic and careful. Jarmo wishes him well again and hangs up.

Bill stands there, holding the phone to his ear, for another fifteen seconds, because he knows Alex is watching him, and he knows Alex is going to ask the second he puts the phone down. Alex has always been an optimist, was probably clinging to a shred of hope even now, and Bill’s going to have to take that away from him. _In. Out. In. Out._

He pockets his phone. “Well?” Alex says immediately, as Bill knew he would.

Bill takes one more deep breath and turns around. “Yeah,” he confirms, proud of how even his voice is. 

Alex’s face falls. “Fuck,” he swears, pulling his knees up to his chest. 

There are a lot of people Bill needs to call—his agent, his parents—but he’s never seen Alex look this upset. It’s not even a choice; Bill rounds the coffee table and wraps his arms around him.

—

The unfortunate thing is that the NHL doesn’t give a shit about Midsummer, because it’s not a holiday in North America. So like three days after finding out he’s moving across the country—three days of talking to his agent and his parents and his new GM and journalists—Bill has to drive up to the cabin that he and Alex and all their friends had decided to rent months ago, and pretend like he feels like partying.

He and Alex are quiet in the car—Bill drives, Alex DJs an extremely self-indulgent playlist full of Sam Smith and Adele—and when they get there, Bill punches Alex in the shoulder, light and affectionate. “We’re going to have fun for Midsummer,” he says, trying not to make it a question.

Alex rolls his eyes, punches Bill back. “Yeah,” he replies, then he steals a quick kiss and gets out of the car.

That’s the worst part of all this, really, Bill thinks as he gets out too. Things have always been easy with him and Alex: they clicked right away, as soon as Bill was traded; fell into bed with each other at the start of the next season, and feelings grew out of that as natural as anything. Bill’s sure he can play hockey without Alex—they rarely played together anyway—it’s living without him that’s going to be the hard part.

Filip wraps Bill up in a bear hug the minute he and Alex step into the cabin. Bill’s carrying two packs of beer, so it’s kind of an awkward hug, but it’s appreciated all the same. Bill can see over his shoulder that Hank is taking the cooler from Alex and slapping him on the back, which makes Bill suspect they might have been planning this.

“How’re you two holding up?” Filip says quietly in his ear. Definitely planned, then. Bill rolls his eyes, tries to pull back—but Filip locks his hands around Bill’s waist and holds on tight. 

Bill knows he could probably break free if he wants to, but. “As well as can be expected,” Bill admits. “I think we’re both looking forward to getting drunk and not thinking about it.”

Filip slaps him on the back and pulls away, apparently satisfied with the answer. “That can definitely be arranged, WK.” 

—

For most of the evening, it works—there’s always a beer in Bill’s hand, and that makes everything feel a little better. Alex is doing a pretty good job of pretending to be in a good mood, except for the way he’s glued himself to Bill’s side the way he does when they’re at a party and he doesn’t know anybody—but he knows everyone here, and many of them longer than he’s known Bill.

“Viva las Vegaaaas!” Anton says excitedly, dropping into the seat across from them. On Bill’s other side, Filip winces; apparently whatever planning Filip and Hank had done beforehand hadn’t made it to Anton.

But Bill can handle this. “Yeah, man,” he says with a smile, clinking his beer with Anton’s. Alex squeezes Bill’s thigh, gets up, and wanders off without explanation. Bill keeps his eyes on Anton’s, willing Anton not to ask. 

And he doesn’t, either because Bill has gained powers of telepathy or because he’s too drunk to notice Alex’s abrupt exit. Hard to say. “No more winter, partying all the time...you excited, man?” Anton says.

“For sure,” Bill replies with a smile. He is, really—less about the partying and more about the opportunity to break into the top six (maybe), to make his mark on a brand-new franchise, and okay, the lack of winter will be nice too. He’s been trying to think about the good things, but it is hard with Alex acting the human stormcloud next to him, much as he loves him. 

Suddenly, Bill feels something on his head, and Anton and Filip start laughing. Bill tips his head back, gets a glimpse of Alex, upside-down. “Hold still,” Alex instructs. He carefully pushes a flower crown over Bill’s head—a little too hard, and it falls down around his neck, so Bill tugs it back up and uses it like a headband. 

He tips his head back again to smile at Alex, and Alex smiles back, expression soft despite the sunglasses hiding half of it. 

“Incredible,” Anton crows. “Come on, picture, picture,” he adds, pulling out his phone. Bill straightens up, tosses an arm around Filip’s shoulders and points at the camera.

—

The party goes late—they have to wait until the sun goes down and then some, naturally—it’s nearly midnight and they’d stay up later but they’ve been drinking all day and Bill, at least, is sleepy. Alex has regressed from sticking close to hanging off Bill like a limpet, and Bill has to half-drag him to bed. 

Bill doesn’t bother undressing himself or Alex; it seems like a lot of work. They crawl into bed and Alex immediately climbs on top of Bill, because he’s the most predictable person in the world. Bill chuckles at him, fondly. 

“You know,” Alex says to his chest, “you don’t technically _have_ to go. I mean, they can’t make you. I’m gonna have a big contract, I could be your sugar daddy until their claim on your rights expires.”

“Uh huh,” Bill replies, amused. He runs a hand through Alex’s hair. “You could, but.”

“I know,” Alex replies, burrowing impossibly closer. 

Bill dreams of Alex—shirtless and laughing by the pool, in his element. It isn’t all that unusual, especially since he fell asleep with him. But when he wakes up, he realizes that he never took off his flower crown, and he can’t help but think of the old superstition about picking flowers on Midsummer and sleeping with them under your pillow to dream of the person you’re meant to be with.

—

Bill’s mood lifts a little over the next few days. He’s still—he loves Columbus, loves his boys, and he’s going to miss it, but he’s never been the kind of person to dwell on things. He’ll keep in touch with them—he’s moving to Vegas, not dying. 

The problem is Alex. Bill loves him, and he’s used to hanging out with him every day, to the point where hanging out with Alex doesn’t even count as being social, it’s just his default state of being—but Alex tends towards the dramatic at the best of times, and he’s taking this pretty hard. He’s not leaving Bill’s side at _all_ , and he’s been playing the same depressing James Arthur song on his guitar for _days_.

Alex picks it up again on Wednesday, plucking out the same melody for the hundredth time, and in an effort to keep himself from sighing pointedly, Bill starts scrolling through his phone, looking for a distraction.

His eye is caught by a notification from his group chat with Korpi and Nuti, called “finlandssvenskar” because none of them are creative. They had sent him the same sort of combination of condolences and congratulations as the rest of the Jackets when the news broke, but they’ve also been pestering him to come visit for the last couple days. 

_If you come to Helsinki we’ll impart our Finnish wisdom on you,_ Nuti says.

_And/or get you super drunk,_ Korpi adds.

_That’s what I meant, dumbass,_ Nuti replies, which is definitely not true. Bill’s pretty sure they’re hanging out right now as they text him, and it makes him smile and miss them at the same time. 

_Okay,_ Bill replies, impulsive. They both reply with celebratory emojis, lightning-fast. 

“Hey,” Bill says out loud, nudging Alex with his toe. Alex looks up from his guitar, but doesn’t stop playing. “Want to go to Helsinki and hang out with Nuti and Korpi this weekend?”

Alex tilts his head, curious, and puts down the guitar to check his calendar on his phone. Bill cheers mentally at the reprieve. “Can’t,” Alex says after a second. “I have a charity thing on Saturday, and then I leave for Dubai on Sunday.” 

“Right, for Kimberly’s birthday,” Bill says, wincing. Alex nods, pockets his phone again, and goes back to his sad guitar playing.

He knows Alex is going to be gone for a week and the summer won’t last forever, and he feels guilty, but at the same time...he still wants to go to Helsinki. He thinks a little break from each other might do both of them some good.

Bill pushes a hand through his hair. “Well, do you mind if I go?”

Alex stops playing again. It’s quiet for a long second before he says, “Uh, no, I guess not.” Which means: _yes, but not enough to make an issue of it._ Bill’s going to take it at face value, though, because he’s pretty sure Alex would mind more if Bill snapped at him for moping, and that’s looking like a more and more likely alternative every second. 

“Thanks, babe,” Bill says, and he leans forward to kiss Alex on the cheek. Alex smiles, closed-mouthed and a little crooked.

—

It’s a quick flight to Helsinki and not an expensive one, even short notice, so Bill brings Filip along with him, just to balance out the Swedes to Finns ratio. Filip seems a little skeptical when he learns Alex isn’t coming— _trouble in paradise?_ , he texts—but he accepts Bill’s explanation of _absence makes the heart grow fonder_ easily enough.

Korpi and Nuti, though, aren’t so chill about it. The minute they pick them up at the airport and see Alex isn’t along for the ride, the inquisition begins. 

“You and Alex aren’t breaking up, are you?” Nuti says, in the tone of a kid who’s worried about his parents’ impending divorce. 

“ _No_ ,” Bill says immediately, appalled. They hadn’t even discussed that as an option after the news broke, because it wasn’t—Alex is it for him, Bill’s sure, and he’s sure Alex feels the same way about him.

Nuti relaxes a little, but he’s still frowning at Bill from the front seat. “So then why isn’t he here? No offense, Filip.”

“None taken,” Filip says easily. “I was wondering that too.”

“He had a charity thing and then he’s going on a family trip,” Bill says. “The timing didn’t work out.” It’s a perfectly logical explanation, but everyone is still looking at him—even Korpi, who’s driving, which is super unsafe—so after a minute Bill sighs and adds, “And he’s been moping non-stop and kind of driving me nuts a little.” 

The car erupts into laughter. Bill feels guilty again, so he keeps talking, “I mean, I get it, it’s a hard situation, I’m—” 

“No, _we_ get it,” Filip interrupts, waving a hand.

“We’ve all seen him when he gets like this,” Korpi agrees. “We all love him, and you’re a patient guy when it comes to that kind of stuff, but it’s good for everybody to get a little break now and then.”

“Exactly,” Bill says, relieved. 

—

The break is good, just like Bill thought it’d be. He enjoys the first two days of alcohol, sports, and no sad music whatsoever, but by the time they’re flying back on Monday, he’s missing Alex. It stings knowing that this is what his next several months will be like once the season starts—and, since he was traded to Columbus, the longest he’s gone without seeing Alex has been about two weeks. Well, sixteen days. Not that he was counting.

This isn’t even that long, but he still finds himself turning to share a funny article with an empty seat next to him on the couch or making a whole pot of coffee for just himself, and every time he thinks, ‘ _Well, get used to it, Bill._ ’ It’s fucking depressing, is what it is.

So he snapchats Alex a picture of the half-full pot of coffee and Alex’s favorite mug, a hilarious novelty one with Zlatan’s face on it. _Miss you_ , he captions it. 

Alex responds almost at once, with a picture of a half-eaten late breakfast he appears to have ordered to his room, based on the background. _Ordered too much food bc I’m used to you finishing mine,_ he’s added. 

Objectively, that’s both sappy and maybe a little rude, but it makes Bill smile. _Can’t believe you passed up the chance to send me a selfie of how tan you are,_ he adds to a picture of the fridge. 

Alex has never turned down a request for a selfie in his entire life, Bill’s pretty sure, and he doesn’t now. Of course he’s shirtless, smiling, as tan as expected, with a beautiful view behind him. He looks like a dream come true—and he knows it, based on his caption of _Well since you asked so nicely…_

Bill takes a screenshot. Then he calls Alex.

“So, what are you wearing,” Bill says when Alex picks up, only half-joking. 

Alex laughs. “Oh, it’s like that? You miss me that much, eh?” 

“It’s good practice,” Bill responds. “We’re going to have to get used to this.” 

“Wow, nice mood killing,” Alex says, and Bill can hear him rolling his eyes. He waits.

“Uh,” Alex says. “I’m wearing jean shorts.” He hesitates, then adds, “What are you wearing?”

“Shorts, too, and one of your button downs,” Bill answers. He’s pretty sure this is supposed to start feeling sexy at some point, but it’s mostly just really awkward. 

“That’s cute,” Alex says. There’s a pause, and then he snickers, which sets Bill off, and then they’re both losing it, which is the first normal thing to happen to Bill all day. 

“Oh my god, we are so bad at this,” Bill says, wiping a tear from his eye.

“We’re gonna have to figure it out,” Alex says, though he doesn’t sound too concerned at the moment.

“It’d probably be less weird over Skype,” Bill muses. “Then we wouldn’t have to—”

“—Yeah,” Alex agrees. “And also maybe not at like ten in the morning.”

“Eight here,” Bill points out.

“You and your morning sex,” Alex scoffs. 

Just hearing Alex’s voice is doing a lot for Bill’s mood, even if the attempt at phone sex did go disastrously. “We’ll figure it out,” Bill says confidently.

“Yeah,” Alex says. He sounds pretty confident too.

—

They get into the habit of calling each other every day, even if they just talk for a couple minutes. It’s something Bill’s seen the married guys do on the road, and he never really understood why. Now he really does. Checking in with Alex about whatever dumb little things they’ve been up to makes Bill feel like he’s a part of what Alex is doing and Alex is a part of what he’s doing. It anchors him, cheesy as that is. 

The good news is that Alex sounds better, too. It seems like the time in the sun with his family and, though he wouldn’t admit it, away from Bill—a walking reminder of how soon his whole life is going to change—is doing him a world of good. 

But Bill still catches a bittersweet twinge to his voice now and then, whenever the topic accidentally changes to the season, or the future, or even Columbus. Now that he’s had a couple days’ break from Alex, Bill doesn’t feel like throttling him for moping anymore—instead, he wants to cheer him up.

The problem is, that’s a little difficult. Alex likes gifts, but he has really particular tastes and bad impulse control, so he pretty much has everything he wants. A romantic gesture is promising, but they’re both really bad at those because they just start laughing. 

And then Bill’s trying to brainstorm on the treadmill, and an old Bruno Mars song comes on. “ _It’s a beautiful night, we’re looking for something dumb to do,_ ” Bruno croons over the speakers. “ _Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you._ ”

And that—that’s an idea. 

Bill feels shocked by his own traitorous brain. It’s an idea, all right—a _terrible_ idea. They’re really young, and they’ve only been dating for a couple of years, and they’ve never talked about marriage, Bill has no idea what Alex thinks about it. 

Then the image pops into Bill’s brain of Alex in a tux with a ring on his finger, smiling his dorkiest grin at Bill, the way he does when he’s so happy he forgets to pose. Bill actually has to step off the belt of the treadmill and onto the edges of it because he’s worried he might fall down. He clenches his fingers around the hand grips and lowers his head onto the screen. 

_He_ wants this. Not to cheer Alex up or try to prove to him that they’re going to make this work—no, he just loves Alex and he wants to be with him forever, even if there’s going to be most of a continent between them for nine months out of the year. 

It’s kind of a lot to process. Bill jabs at the treadmill until it turns off, then steps down and sits cross-legged on the gym floor. He’s really glad there’s no one else in here to witness what probably looks like some kind of a mental breakdown. 

The song is still playing. “ _I’ll go get a ring,_ ” Bruno sings, and fuck, this is—this is a really bad idea. Like, ‘Bill doesn’t trust his own brain right now’ levels of bad.

He texts Filip: _I need you to tell me that something is a terrible idea._

Filip doesn’t reply right away, and Bill stands on shaky legs, gets a drink of water, checks Instagram. Likes Alex’s video of him playing golf. 

Finally, his phone buzzes. _Ok,_ Filip has replied, which is a relief. Bill knows he can count on Filip.

_It’s a terrible idea if I go buy a ring and trick Alex into eloping with me right_

There is a tellingly long pause, during which Filip starts and stops typing at least three times. Bill almost picks up the phone to call him, he’s feeling that freaked out. 

_Define trick_ , Filip replies finally.

_Get him to go to Vegas w/ me to pick out an apartment and not propose until we’re there?_ Bill replies.

_I’ll be at your place in 20_ , Filip says, which is—good. He’s probably super concerned for Bill’s mental health, and he’s coming over to—

_We’re going ring shopping_ , Filip adds. Bill’s heart leaps up into his throat.

_I asked you to tell me it was a terrible idea_ , Bill replies, hands shaking.

_I’m too good of a friend to lie_ , Filip replies.

—

So Bill buys a ring. It’s pretty simple—classic, he thinks Alex would say. _Will_ say. Fuck.

He hides it in his closet and acts as normal as possible on the phone with Alex—and then Alex comes home from Dubai and Bill makes sure they spend as much time as possible at Alex’s, because he breaks into a cold sweat every time he looks at his own closet. 

It’s going well, basically.

The next phase of things is convincing Alex to go to Vegas with him without letting on why he actually wants him to go. They’re at the gym, kneeling on exercise balls and batting around a tennis ball with Oscar, and Bill is pretty sure that the actual point of this exercise is to give the trainers some amusement.

“Alex, what do you think—,” Bill cuts himself off as the ball comes his way and he almost falls over. He hits it toward Oscar, recovers his balance, and says, “Do you think about—” before it happens again.

Alex is laughing at him, and so is Oscar for that matter. It’s pointless to try to talk and do this at the same time, so Bill closes his mouth until the trainer says, “Okay, enough.”

They get up, shaking out their legs. “What were you trying to ask me?” Alex says, leaning on Bill’s shoulder. He’s sweaty and his hair is a total mess, and frankly, it just makes him look hotter. Bill doesn’t understand how he works.

He shakes his head, pulling himself out of his reverie. “Uh, I was gonna say, do you want to change the dates of our trip to the States to leave a little early?”

Alex tilts his head. “Why?”

“I want you to help me pick out my place in Vegas,” Bill says. He crosses his fingers behind his back and prays Alex doesn’t realize that’s about ten percent of why Bill’s asking.

Alex looks flattered to be asked, if a little confused. “And you wanna go before the wedding? Why not go after?” 

It’s a good question. The honest answer is that Bill is not at all sure he can keep the ring a secret for that long. But he obviously can’t say that, so he tilts his head down and looks up at Alex. “Please?” he asks, fluttering his eyelashes.

It has the desired effect: Alex laughs at him, reaches his arm around Bill’s waist and squeezes his hip gently. “Okay, if you want to go that bad,” Alex says. “We can look at flights when we get home.”

_Yes_. Bill uncrosses his fingers, gives Alex a quick hug. “It’ll be fun,” Bill says cheerfully as he pulls away. 

“It always is, Bill,” Alex replies, expression way too soft for the gym. 

—

Bill packs the ring in the corner of his duffle, so he can run his hand over it every thirty seconds and make sure it’s still there. It reassures him that he hasn’t lost it, but it also makes it impossible to forget what he’s going to do. 

He’s got nervous energy coursing through his veins, and he absolutely can’t sit still. Alex keeps shooting him confused glances, and in the car on the way to the hotel he settles a hand over Bill’s knee to keep it from bouncing.

“What is up with you today? You’re so jittery,” Alex says, sounding concerned. “Too hot to be chill?” 

Bill swallows hard, struggling with his dry throat. “Something like that,” he manages. Alex’s brows furrow deeper, but he keeps his eyes on the road.

He’s got a plan, is the thing. He has a speech and a ring, and he’s gonna take Alex out to dinner and make it romantic, damn it. He just has to keep his mouth shut that long. 

—

Bill makes it to the hotel room. That’s when they’re unpacking and Alex says, “Seriously, Bill, are you okay?” like he’s genuinely concerned.

Bill practiced his speech in the mirror at home like ten times, and once in the bathroom on the plane, but what comes out of his mouth is, “Do you want to get married?” 

Alex’s jaw drops. “What,” he says, sounding winded. 

Bill collapses onto the end of the bed, groans, and buries his head in his hands. “God damn it. I had a whole speech, it was going to be _romantic_ and—”

“You want to get married? You’re proposing to me right now?” Alex says. His voice sounds strange. Bill kind of doesn’t want to look at him, but he makes himself do it anyway.

Alex is looking at him like he just announced the cure for cancer. That helps—a bubble of hope rises up through the anxiety in Bill’s chest.

“Yeah,” Bill confirms. He gets up, intending to go get the ring, but Alex grabs his arm, surprisingly firm.

“ _That’s_ what you were freaking out about?” Bill nods, tries to move again, but Alex doesn’t let go. “Holy shit,” Alex says, grin completely blinding. He leans forward to kiss Bill, and Bill arches into it out of habit, but before they actually make contact, he reaches up and puts a finger on Alex’s lips.

“Wait,” Bill says. “If we start making out we’re just gonna have sex.”

“Yes?” says Alex, like he doesn’t see the problem there, which—

“I have a ring,” Bill says, “and a speech, and I have to give you both of them, and _then_.”

“Okay,” Alex says, biting his lip like he’s trying not to laugh. 

Bill punches him with the arm he’s not holding. “Shut up, I worked really hard on this, it’s not going to waste.”

“Okay,” Alex echoes, still grinning. He lets go of Bill’s arm, finally, and sits down as Bill goes to dig the ring out of his bag. 

Bill feels way less nervous now that he pretty much knows what Alex’s feelings on the matter are. His hands barely even shake as he digs out the ring box, walks over to the end of the bed, and drops to one knee.

“Oh my god,” Alex says. He doesn’t sound like he’s trying not to laugh anymore. Bill takes a deep breath and looks up at him.

What he feels is deja vu, from the first time he met Alex, way back at World Juniors. He wasn’t on one knee then, but he had the same problem of forgetting every word in every language he knows because Alex looks like _that,_ and Alex is looking at _him._

Bill laughs, runs a hand through his hair, and speaks from the heart. “I love you,” he says. “And I’m gonna miss you so much. Like, before I met you I didn’t really get what people meant when they said 'he’s my other half’, but—I get it now.” He’s definitely tearing up, but Alex is too, so—that’s probably fine, then.

Bill wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand. “You’re it for me,” he says honestly. “Let’s go find somebody in an Elvis costume to make it official.”

Alex starts laughing, wiping his own eyes. “Oh my god, you aren’t just proposing, you want to get married, like, _now._ ” 

“I want to be married to you as soon as possible,” Bill says, standing up. Alex stands too, reaches for Bill, but Bill catches his left hand and fumbles the ring out of the box. 

Alex is—definitely crying now, when Bill looks up at him. Thank god he at least looks like a normal person when he’s crying, a little blotchy and red-eyed, or else Bill might really think he’s not human.

Alex nods when Bill looks at him, a little frantically, and splays his fingers to make it easier for Bill to put the ring on. Which he does, and then he kisses it, because he’s already far enough down the 'overly sincere and emotional’ rabbit hole that he can basically do whatever he wants at this point. Alex kind of sobs, it sounds like. Bill _loves_ him. 

“Our parents are going to kill us,” Alex says thickly. “Can I please kiss you now? And then we can go get married?” 

“Right now?” Bill says affectionately, pressing their foreheads together. 

“I want to be married to you as soon as possible,” Alex says, using Bill’s words against him. And then he kisses Bill, which leaves no room for further argument.

—

So they do. They get dressed in the suits they packed for Cam and Nat’s wedding first, then they go to a jewelry store to pick out a ring for Bill. After that, they find the tackiest wedding chapel they can and let Elvis handle the rest—including taking a picture of them with the wedding chapel sign in the background, so there’s no doubt whatsoever about what’s going on here. 

Bill scrolls through the takes, Alex peering over his shoulder to look too. There are a couple nice ones of them both smiling at the camera, and then one where Bill is in the same position, but Alex is smiling at him. “That one,” Alex says immediately.

“Of course,” Bill says, rolling his eyes because he’s out of other ways to express how fond he feels right now. He turns his head to kiss Alex, soft and sweet, and then he starts editing the photo for instagram. 

He does send it to their parents first, though. _Whoops...You can throw us a big party when we get back,_ he adds. 

For his locked instagram, Bill’s less apologetic in his caption. He goes with _I liked it so I did what Beyonce would want me to do_ .

**Author's Note:**

> Real events:  
> -[Midsummer at the cabin](https://www.instagram.com/p/BVsMTvDDdZo/)  
> -[Alex's golf instagram](https://www.instagram.com/p/BWNqwIuAjqn/)  
> -[Their wedding picture](https://www.instagram.com/p/BXJo-HVA-Qv/) (okay not really but come _on_


End file.
